


Gamesters Refuted

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AOS characterisation though, BAMF Uhura, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e17 The Gamesters of Triskelion, Established Relationship, Hurt Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, James T. Kirk & Nyota Uhura Friendship, M/M, Poor Spock, Protective Bones, Protective Spock, sort of, very brief mention of Tarsus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 21:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10580181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: “Whe’s Spock?” He slurred into his pillow, before being snapped back into acute focus by his pain, and promptly adding, “Ouch. Ow-fucking ow!”Injured and beaten, Jim returns to the Enterprise and lets himself be looked after.Episode tag to Gamesters of Triskelion but with AOS characterisation. Can be read without watching the episode.





	

Jim half expected himself to collapse the moment he felt his feet on the familiar floor of the Transporter room, safe on-board the Enterprise again- at last. But he didn’t. Not immediately, anyway, because he was wrecked but he wasn’t any worse than he’d ever been before. The pain had passed to an unsteady background thrum in his head ages ago, distracted by his cunning plan to get them the hell off that twisted planet. He just had to maintain that for a while longer while he got his ship sorted out.

“Jim!” Of course Bones was there to greet him, thundering through the entrance and immediately rushing to his Captain’s side to help him off the platform.

Jim waved him off, shaking his head and fighting off the dizziness the action provoked. “Look after Uhura.” Uhura, whose screams would probably haunt his fucking nightmares for weeks to come, who looked too pale and shaky still. Jim had watched his crew suffer before, watched them die even, but nothing compared to the mingling shadows of Uhura and her attacker, just out of sight from his cell. Her screams had pierced his fucking soul and he’d hit the bars keeping them apart so hard he’d bruised his hands. She’d regained her composure admirably quickly afterwards, but he knew her better than that. She was still scared and upset, probably embarrassed she struggled so much to defend herself- despite the fact that her attacker was so much stronger than any of them.

Then there was Chekov too. He’d been equally as helpless to Uhura’s situation, and when the screaming had stopped – replaced with an awful, terrifying silence -  Jim had finally torn his eyes away from Uhura’s cell to the one opposite him. Chekov had been frozen still, pallid and nauseas looking. Jim always remembered just how young Chekov was at precisely the worst moments – and at that moment in particular, his young Russian ensign had very much looked a teenager still.

Jim turned back to Bones who was helping Uhura onto a stretcher. “And Chekov needs something to help him sleep too.” He instructed thickly, feeling distinctly sick himself. Not that he admitted it to his dear Doctor, moving to the desktop and hitting the com.

“Spock- please get us away from here?”

 _“I am doing so, Captain. Are you receiving medical attention?”_ Jim glanced at Uhura and Chekov’s exhausted figures being carried out to the medbay. Bones didn’t accompany them, arms folded and gaze fixed on Jim coolly.

“In a minute, Spock. How… just, you found us.” He realised he was smiling when he felt a cut on his cheek suddenly twitch, and distantly he registered more blood trickling down his face in a steady stream.

 _“Clearly, Captain. I insist you submit to Doctor McCoy. I will join you shortly.”_ Spock either sounded irritated or worried, but the sound was starting to go fuzzy and Jim couldn’t quite tell which was which. There was a ringing too, and when he concentrated hard enough it sounded like Uhura’s screaming.

It took a great deal of effort to open his eyes, and - Oh _shit_. He was vertical. “Bones?” Fuck, he wasn’t even in the transporter room anymore. The ceiling of the corridors continued to pass by above him, and to his left Bones was striding along with the stretcher, running his scans on Jim as though second nature to him. In fairness, it probably was.

“Pass out on me again and I’ll kill you.” One hypo in the neck. “Or Spock will. Either way.” He cast Jim a twisted grin. Another fucking hypo. “Whipping lacerations - three deep, seven scratches. Broken toe and thumb –“

Jim didn’t hear the rest, and when he woke again he was in bed bay and his neck ached to fuck, like he’d missed about twenty hypos while passed out. He could finally feel the pain of his entire aching body and the deep, hot agony in his cuts. He’d never been whipped before – and seven years old with Frank’s belt certainly didn’t count; even if his back _had_ taken a beating once, it hadn’t been like this. God it hurt. He’d been turned onto his stomach and every so often, a sharp stinging would overwhelm the existing pain as Bones cleaned the wounds.

“Whe’s Spock?” He slurred into his pillow, before being snapped back into acute focus by his pain, and promptly adding, “Ouch. Ow- _fucking_ ow!” Bones, as ever, was there to get the fucking job done.

“Lay still - for fuck’s sake, Jim.” Bones groaned. “He’s coming soon. There was a lift issue.”

Jim was worried. He wanted to know more- but he couldn’t get his mouth to form the words, and he didn’t trust them anyway when he was in this much pain. His back seared in flaming pain that was starting to numb rapidly. He knew first hand that being numb wasn’t necessarily always better than being in pain. He wanted Spock. Some muscle deep in his back twinged again, and Jim flinched, twisting his spine away from the torture of Bones’ touch.

Bones’ fingers curled into his arm tightly, irritated, and holding Jim down firmly. At least when he spoke his voice was gentle. “Jim, if you can’t stay still I’ll have to sedate you.” Jim groaned. Being sedated meant not seeing Spock for hours more. He could cope with the semi-numb, awkward discomfort for a little while longer.

“Fuckin’ hurts, Bones- ow!”

“Of course it hurts, dumbass, you were whipped.” Bones replied, the bite to his tone indicative of the worry he was feeling. They’d been friends for far too long for Jim not to notice it, and fuck- his back hurt and his chest hurt and he wondered if the whip had cut through to his lungs and fractured his ribs on the way. Where the pain remained, it was strange. It was unlike most pains he’d experienced before, and that was probably half-down to the mesh of pain relief being injected into his body at various spots. If Bones had it his way, he’d probably have knocked Jim out with something strong and inebriating already. But Jim had made his point very clear that if possible, he always wanted a report by his crew after a mission.

“Ff- ‘m gonna be sick.” He said thickly, trying not to open his mouth too much, but even speaking had fucked him over anyway and he couldn’t stop himself from succumbing to the urge to chuck his guts up. Strong hands gripped his arms and dragged him upright instantly, lest he choke on his own vomit. “Please-“ He’d wanted desperately to wait for Spock to make it from the bridge, but he wasn’t above begging Bones to knock him out of it now. He hated throwing up more than being whipped. Throwing up made him feel like he was fresh off Tarsus again and that was the last thing he needed- Bones knew all of this, too.

It didn’t matter anyway, because Spock was suddenly there beside him, looking particularly flustered- as though he’d just legged it from the bridge. When Jim had blinked away his persistent, unwelcome tears and managed to focus, their eyes locked for a brief moment. It conveyed all the love and fear in the world, before a hypo stung his neck and the urge to throw up dissipated instantly. The stench and stickiness remained, and his whip cuts were stinging even worse somehow, sharp and focused through everything else for just a brief moment.

He couldn’t speak again. His throat was raw and his skin was too. He just grasped for Spock’s wrist and Bones’ too, signalling he was more than ready to not feel this pain anymore. He didn’t even feel the sting of the next hypo.

* * *

When he woke, his skin felt stiff and new, un-stretched and tender still. The rawness of his throat had been rectified, thankfully, and there was a small hand in his that he knew instantly wasn’t Spock’s. His eyes flickered open and he found Uhura sat by his bed, watching him nervously.

“Lieu-“

“Hey Captain. It’s about time.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, fighting off the lingering drowsiness to investigate his surroundings. The smell of sick was gone, replaced with the fresh cleanliness of medbay. Everything was clean and white, and his soiled, torn clothing had been removed and replaced with a ward-gown. He could imagine the look on Bones’ face when he cut the fabric from his bloody skin, how angry his friend would be that Jim got himself into another mess like this. In his defence, there really hadn’t been much of another option.

“No, I am.” Uhura said quietly, looking at her lap as she let go of his hand. “I wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to take my place. I should be the one in that hospital bed.”

“Don’t be stupid, Uhura, it doesn’t suit you.” He snorted. “I’m your Captain. I _am_ responsible for you. Besides, you’d already been through enough, Uhura. You were shaking so bad I didn’t think you could even stand, let alone fight.” Not that he’d done a spectacular job of fighting himself. “Now you’re forbidden from feeling guilty for this. I’d do it again tomorrow. Besides, I’m right as rain now aren’t I?” He gave her a lazy thumbs up. “I am. So you go and rest up.” He paused. “Unless there’s anything you need to talk about, because you went through some tough crap down there and I’m here for you. You know, if you need me.”

He fell silent at Uhura’s amused expression, because at least he still had the capacity to annoy her – however grateful she was to him. “I’m okay.” And he believed her. Thankfully. She was still too pale for his liking and her eyes were a little dulled, but other than that he didn’t foresee any problems. Uhura was strong. Fucking stronger than he was, anyway. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

Jim must have dozed off again immediately after Uhura had left his bedside, because he woke to a gentle shaking of his shoulders. “There. Look, he’s waking up.” Bones’ voice to his left was crisp and irritated. “Now you can take him home and get the hell out of my sickbay.” Ah. Jim grinned before his eyes had even opened, knowing without a doubt that Spock was probably stood to his right.

“You should have let your patient sleep, Doctor. I find your dislike of my presence compromising of the Captain’s health.”

“The Captain’s health will be served equally resting in your quarters.” Bones retorted sharply. “ _Your_ health, Mr Spock, will suffer greatly should you choose to remain here.”

Jim opened his eyes, finding the brightness of medbay had been dimmed for the ship’s night cycle, and keeping awake didn’t seem half as difficult as it had done when Uhura had been keeping vigil over him earlier. “Now, gentlemen, play nicely.” Normally, that was like asking for the moon on a string. All the moons in the universe, in fact. Though when Jim’s health was a factor, he could usually get them to compromise.

“Jim.” Spock greeted him as close to affectionately as Jim had ever heard him, or perhaps it was just the shock of the contrast to the tone he’d used with Bones. “How do you feel?”

“I’m alright, Spock. How’s my ship- Uhura and Chekov?” He blanched, remembering the frightened look on Chekov’s face through the bars – wide eyes and pale complexion as they listened to Uhura’s screaming without being able to reach her.

“Both well and recovering privately, Captain.”

“You’re cleared to leave medbay too, Jimmy. Just don’t you dare do any physical activity. I’ll make a house call in the morning to get a better idea of where you are recovery wise.”

“Understood Bones.” He slid off the bed, leaning on Spock a little more than he’d anticipated needing too. His back didn’t seem to want to stretch at all and his legs were tired and aching still, far more noticeably when he stood and tried to use them. “No kinky alien sex with Spock. Got it.” Not that he felt up to it, even if they had Bones’ damn blessing – which was unlikely, in any case. He flashed Bones a cheeky grin and left, ignoring the look of derision that he could practically feel Spock emitting.

* * *

“You have an unparalleled collection of PADDs in your possession, Jim.” Spock commented quietly as the lights illuminated the mess of Jim’s quarters; his work from prior to his supposed departure for their inspection of the unmanned station at Gamma II. His desk was a jumble, laden with PADDs and reports.

“Yeah, I don’t know how that happens.” He shrugged, leaning heavily against the door for a moment while Spock pulled back his bed covers. “People just give them to me to sign on my way back from the bridge, and I end up with a bunch.” In fact, he usually got back to his rooms with a chin high stack, with barely any clue how it had happened or, indeed, what the reports were regarding. Frankly, he didn’t know how Spock was able to avoid such happenings. Still, Yeoman Rand always returned the PADDs to their proper place when he’d finally gotten round to signing them.

“I suggest either signing them upon receiving them, or else taking a different route to your quarters, Captain.” Spock replied, finally turned and helping Jim across the room, setting him down on his bed. “Is there anything you require?”

“Well Bones vetoed the kinky alien sex, so I guess not.” Jim attempted a rueful grin, but he suspected he just looked rather tired and pale. “Just you, Spock. If you can be spared.”

For a brief second, Spock almost looked like he was going to decline and leave Jim there to sleep. Then, at the last possible second, when Jim was just about to get embarrassed and make a joke, Spock moved around the bed and slipped under the covers behind him. His initial hesitation was forgotten, as he slid across the mattress and pressed up closely to Jim. A hand lay gently on his waist, and Jim didn’t doubt for one second that Spock was being cautious of his new skin and seemingly old wounds. Thank god for Bones.

“You found me.” Jim said, in a voice smaller than he’d anticipated.

“I will always endeavour to do so. I only regret we could not locate you sooner.”

Jim knew what Spock meant. He meant it was unbearable having to watch Jim fight for all their lives, exhausted and injured, risking everything on only himself and his own perseverance. Of course, Jim had seen Spock in similar situations. It sucked – there was really no other way to describe it. Watching Spock fight for his life was like swallowing broken glass and then a working blender, and waiting for everything to go to hell.

“I knew you’d come.” He said. “Chekov and Uhura… I’ve never felt more useless, Spock. I couldn’t protect them.”

“Their safe return to this ship negates your claim.” Spock said into his neck, his breath hot and calming. “They are recovered, Jim, and quite grateful to you. I would ask that you follow their example and rest.”

Jim half-smiled into his pillow. “Yes, Spock.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have writers block so I just really wanted to publish something (anything) so I'm sorry this is weird and sort of fragmented.


End file.
